By Kat Richardson
Harper Blaine is at the mend, yet evil by no means rests—in the newest novel from the nationwide bestselling writer of Labyrinth and Seawitch.
Harper Blaine was once your general small-time PI until eventually she died—for mins. Now Harper is a Greywalker, treading the skinny line among the dwelling international of the Pacific Northwest and the magical realm. And she's learning that her new talents are touchdown her every kind of "strange" cases.
After being shot within the again and dying—again—Harper has misplaced a lot of her powers. Now, if the Greywalker dies yet one more time, she won't be coming again. Harper's in basic terms respite from the chaos is her paintings. yet whereas engaging in an research within the Olympic Peninsula, she sees a ghostly automobile twist of fate and unearths a sufferer who insists he used to be murdered, blaming the within reach picturesque group of sundown Lakes—called "Blood Lake" through locals.
Harper quickly learns that underneath the icy waters of the lake hides a poor strength and a bunch of hellish beings—both of that are held lower than the thrall of a sinister cabal that might use the darkest of arts to accomplish their fiendish ends...
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Extra resources for Downpour (Greywalker, Book 6)
Your support of the author舗s rights is appreciated. com Chapter One I never used to keep close track of the phases of the moon. So I didn舗t know that it was one night shy of being full when a young woman sat down across from me in McAnally舗s pub and asked me to tell her all about something that could get her killed. 舠No,舡 I said. 舡 I folded the piece of paper, with its drawings of three concentric rings of spidery symbols, and slid it back over the polished oak-wood table. Kim Delaney frowned at me, and brushed some of her dark, shining hair back from her forehead.
I had my suspicions, but I hadn舗t gotten the chance to confront her about them yet. Maybe it wasn舗t anything I舗d done. Maybe the monsters had gone on strike. Yeah, right. The bottom line was I was strapped for cash. I舗d been eating ramen noodles and soup for too many weeks. The steaks Mac had prepared smelled like heaven, even from across the room. My belly protested again, growling its neolithic craving for charred meat. But I couldn舗t just go and eat the dinner without giving Kim the information she wanted.
Maybe it舗s not werewolves. Crazy things happen sometimes. 舡 I gave her half of a smile, which she answered with a faint snort. 舠I舗ll probably be in my office, Dresden,舡 she said. 舡 And then she pulled out of the parking lot, turning quickly out onto the street. I didn舗t get into the Beetle. Instead, I watched the car that had followed us into the parking lot. It cruised around the far side of the lot, then started down the row, toward me, and kept on going. The driver, a striking woman with shaggy, dark brown hair, peppered with grey, did not turn to look at me as she went past.